


Shrike to Your Thorn

by readwriterepeat



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readwriterepeat/pseuds/readwriterepeat
Summary: Getting together with a teammate had been one of the most difficult to navigate transitions of Tobin’s life.Breaking up with a teammate is even worse.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 104
Kudos: 337





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Excited to be posting my first fic in this fandom. To be clear I don't think Tobin and Chris are anything but happy right now and this fic obviously isn't at all a reflection of real life.

Getting together with a teammate had been one of the hardest, most difficult to navigate transitions of Tobin’s life. All at once, so many sets of eyes were keenly following her and Christen’s interactions and taking in the fragile beginnings of their blossoming relationship.

Even under the best circumstances, with the acceptance and support of their teammates, the transition was stressful, and awkward, and distracting. Dating Christen was definitely worth it, but starting a relationship with a teammate was still a tricky shift. 

Breaking up with a teammate is even worse. 

*****

As Tobin walks toward the field she tells herself that she’ll focus on herself and her play today. She and Chris will each do their own thing and treat each other like any other player. This is the first time they’ve seen each other in the three weeks since the breakup, but that doesn’t mean their new dynamic has to take over the entire practice. They’re professionals. They’re at work. All Tobin needs to do is focus on her cleats in the grass, her foot on the ball, her runs up the pitch.

Letting her mind fill with thoughts of the game distracts her, and for a second Tobin thinks she can handle this. Then without warning smiling green eyes flash in her mind and immediately a swell of too many emotions to distinguish surges through her and fills her chest like an overinflated balloon. Sadness, frustration, excitement, panic. Love. 

Pressure tightens her throat and tears swell to her eyes before she even takes her next breath, her body physically trying to void itself of these feelings. Within the space of a step, everything has become too much, too much, too much. 

Tobin takes a deep breath. Well, she tries to, but her best attempt is shaky and shallow. So she swallows hard to fight the thickness of her throat and tries again. She’s almost through the stadium now, the sunlight visible through the opening to the pitch. 

She won’t even look for Christen. She’ll find the nearest ball and juggle and stretch and warm up on her own until the coaches give her things to do. All she needs to do is find a ball… but as soon as her foot sinks into the grass her eyes find Christen instead. They land on her without conscious effort. She didn’t need to scan the stadium, she doesn’t even really mean to look up. Christen’s face is tiny across the field but so familiar that the details from Tobin’s memory automatically flood to fill the gaps and it’s like they’re standing a foot apart. 

It’s only been seconds but somehow Christen’s eyes are already on her as well, and this distant, accidental eye contact is the blunt force of a soccer ball knocking the air from Tobin’s lungs. Tobin tears her eyes away as quickly as she can. She swipes up the nearest soccer ball and starts juggling on her way to the bench before she’s even put her things down.

*****

No one else on the team knows yet. Her play must be a little bit off, but not so much that anyone has really started worrying. After a particularly off-target cross, Pinoe gives her a confused look from the center of the field as they reposition to run the drill again. Allie falls in line behind Tobin. She laughs and pats a hand against Tobin’s shoulder. 

“Takes a second to get your touch back with such long breaks between camps, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Tobin replies, not bothering to force a smile and trying to keep her attention on the drill. 

Allie’s eyebrows push together and the smile fades from her face at Tobin’s flat response. “You doing good, Harry?” she asks, her hand still resting on her friend’s shoulder.

Tobin forces the corners of her lips up and turns to address Allie more directly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just trying to get my head back in the game.” 

Tobin goes to twist the ring on the middle finger of her right hand— a nervous habit— but her hand falls to fiddle with the hem of her shirt instead when she remembers that it isn’t there.

The movement catches Allie’s attention, and Tobin silently curses herself for making the mistake. She can sense the change in Allie’s demeanor when she notices the stark tan line that decorates Tobin’s finger in place of the usual gold band.

Allie freezes and her gaze stays on Tobin’s hand for a few more seconds, as if confirming that she’s seeing things correctly before wide eyes turn to her friend’s face. 

She’s quieter when she speaks again. “Tobin…”

“Not now, Allie.”

Tobin is looking pointedly away in the direction of the action on the field but she can feel her friend’s gaze flicking searchingly around her face, trying to read her. 

“Tobin did… are you and Christen — ” 

“We need to focus on practice, Allie,” Tobin interrupts. Their words are hushed enough that none of their teammates should be able to overhear, but the sudden tension of the conversation has them both standing unnaturally still. Tobin shoves her hands into the pockets of her training pants, nervous that someone else might notice the absence of the ring she used to wear to match Christen’s own. She glances around but it doesn’t seem like their strange behavior has caught anyone else’s attention yet. 

She dares a look at Christen, two lines away waiting for her turn to run the drill. She’s staring at the ground, face blank. Too blank, Tobin thinks, and wonders if Christen has realized what Tobin and Allie’s exchange is about. Before Tobin decides for sure, a whistle blows and Christen takes off running as one of the assistant coaches taps a ball in front of her.

Tobin hasn’t said it out loud yet. Hasn’t told anyone that Christen is gone from her life. Putting it into words won’t make the reality of her situation any more or less true — Tobin knows that — but it sure feels like it will. 

Allie catches Tobin looking, and her mouth parts slightly as she tries to figure out what to do. They both shuffle forward to their new spots in line. She’s silent for another moment before she whispers again, searching for eye contact that Tobin refuses to provide her. “Tobin, are you okay?” 

The question is firm, and sincere, and filled with so much concern and _care_ for her friend that Tobin squeezes her eyes shut. _Yes_ , Tobin thinks. _I’m okay._ _I’m okay. This is going to be okay,_ she tries to convince herself. Another whistle pierces through the stadium and Tobin takes off running, grateful to the timing for saving her from lying to her friend. 

*****

A water break is called and everyone jogs to the edge of the field where their things are piled on the sideline. 

Everyone including Tobin. Everyone including Christen. 

They’re running towards each other. Well, not exactly toward each other, but converging on the same spot. Getting closer than they have been yet this morning. 

“Hi,” Christen’s soft voice slides between the bodies of their teammates. It’s the first Tobin has heard it in three weeks. 

Three weeks ago Christen was saying things like ‘Tobin, I want to talk to you about something.’

She was saying ‘I love you, but I don’t want either of us to miss out on opportunities because we’re holding each other back.’ 

She was saying ‘I love you, but this is for the best.’ 

She was saying ‘I love you, but I think we should have space to be ourselves for a while,’ and Tobin was thinking  _ But what if I’m most myself when I’m with you? _

She was saying ‘I love you, but — ’ a whole lot and Tobin was thinking about how hearing ‘I love you, but — ’ felt so, so different from just hearing ‘I love you.’

And now Christen is saying, “Hi.” 

And Tobin hears her own voice reply, “Hey,” even though it feels like a different person is speaking when she says it. Tobin looks at Christen without taking her in. Offers a small but polite smile of acknowledgment. 

And Tobin finds her bag and drinks some water. 

*****

Allie doesn’t let it go, obviously, but she doesn’t confront Tobin again until they’re back in the hotel after practice. She follows Tobin to her room and Tobin lets it happen, knowing there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. Tobin was selected as one of the veterans allowed to have a single room during these short couple of practices leading up to the friendly they have later this week. There won’t be any interruptions to their privacy in Tobin’s room that Tobin can use as an excuse to clam up. 

When Tobin enters the room she leaves the door open for Allie. She stands in front of the beds and Allie walks up to meet her. Her hands slide to where Tobin’s wrists are buried into her pockets and coaxes Tobin’s hands out so she can take them in her own. “What’s going on, Tobin.” Her attention drifts again to the line of light skin on Tobin’s middle finger.

Sorrow is restaking its place in Tobin’s body and she feels it tumble around her stomach and sweep itself like a blanket over her senses. She clenches her jaw, not trusting herself to talk. Not thinking that she would be able to talk if she tried. 

“Tobin,” Allie prompts softly. “Please tell me what’s happening. I want to be here for you. I want to help you if you need it. But you have to talk to me.” She’s patient and gentle and kind. “Is something going on with you and Christen?”

The sting in her eyes tells Tobin that she started crying, and honestly, she’s surprised she made it this long. Now that the tears are falling it doesn’t feel like they’re ever going to stop. 

“She — ” Tobin starts, but the flow of her tears surges at this first word and a choked sob cuts her off. 

Allie pulls Tobin forward so Tobin’s hands are around her waist and loops her arms firmly around her friend’s back. Tobin collapses into her. “Oh. Oh, Toby,” Allie whispers into her hair, emotion tinting her voice. 

Tobin is taking quick, heavy breaths, trying to get enough air to speak. The impersonal atmosphere of the hotel room stretches wide and empty around them and Tobin pushes herself harder into the comfort of Allie’s arms. Tobin feels Allie adjust to lock her chin firmly over her shoulder, feels her squeezing tighter. 

“She needed space,” Tobin finally forces out. Her body racks with the force of her crying. 

She tries to speak again but can’t force the words through her throat. 

“It’s okay. Shh, shh it’s okay Tobin.” Allie strokes a hand against the back of her head. Tobin’s face is hot with the same tears that are soaking Allie’s shirt, and she feels like she can’t breathe. 

And Allie knows what’s happened. It’s plenty obvious from Tobin’s words already, and the absence of the ring reaffirms it, but Tobin needs to say it out loud. Clearly and unambiguously. The truth of what’s happened presses up against her throat, too monumental and unyielding to fit through easily, but she can’t hold it behind her ribs any longer. 

She’s clutching the back of Allie’s shirt when the words finally tumble out.

“It’s over.” A stuttered breath. “Chris and I are over.”   
  


And just like that her heartbreak is sanctified in the apathetic air of the hotel room.


	2. Chapter 2

The blare of Tobin’s alarm slices from her phone straight into Tobin’s head where it lies sunken into the too-soft hotel pillows. Normally she would have the alarm disabled by the time it’s finished it’s second beep, wanting to cut the sound off as quickly as possible. Today she lets the sharp noise wail on for much longer, hoping the volume of it will blast some of the static from her head. 

Her eyes are heavy and dry when she drags them open. Had she even been asleep when the alarm sounded? It’s hard to tell. Tobin doesn’t feel like she’s slept at all over the past couple of days, though she knows that can’t be true. There must have been some stretches of unconsciousness squeezed between the long hours of staring at the ceiling. 

Sleep has never been an issue for Tobin. Regardless of any outside factors in her life, once Tobin’s head hits the pillow at the end of the day she’s been able to let everything go and get her rest. Everyone that knew her always gushed about how lucky she was. In the weeks since the breakup though she’s more than made up for the years of good sleep that they were jealous of. 

Tobin thought that maybe her sleepless nights in Portland were fueled by the familiar space becoming unfamiliar. Maybe the bed that Christen had previously occupied was empty when she climbed in and she was just getting used to the change. But Tobin never shares a bed on soccer trips, so there’s no change to get used to here. There’s nothing in this room that’s throwing her off the normal rhythm she sets for herself at camps and still, she can’t sleep.

Tobin finally drags her phone from the side table and disables the alarm. There are a few texts on her home screen, but after a quick scan to see that they aren’t urgent she puts her phone back down and starts going through the motions of getting ready for morning training. 

It’s the fourth day of camp now and not much has changed. Her interactions with Christen have been minimal. More people know about the breakup now— whether it’s first hand from Tobin or Christen, or if it’s second or third hand from other people at camp. News travels fast. The coaching staff is trying to be professional about it but Tobin can tell at least some of them know because she and Christen keep getting put into separate groups— which she’s grateful for, honestly. 

Tobin tugs on her training gear and stumbles into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Daring a glance at the mirror she sees about what she expects. The woman looking back at her is clearly rundown. Her skin seems paler, despite the multiple outdoor practices over the past few days, and it hangs looser around her cheeks, a result of the meals she’s skipped. The circles under her eyes are just a little darker than the day before, when they were just a little darker than the day before that. 

Tobin brushes her teeth on autopilot, and scrubs her face with some water when she’s done, hoping the cold will wake her up. It doesn’t. 

She forgoes brushing her hair at all and instead just throws it straight into a bun on her way out the door. 

*****

By the time she’s at the stadium, she’s feeling at least a little bit better. It’s likely a result of the protein smoothie she forced herself to drink instead of having a breakfast of coffee like she’d had the previous morning.

Tobin bounces on her toes and feels some of the familiar power in her legs, but knows she has just a shadow of the usual energy she brings to the pitch. Her brain still feels like it’s running slow, and her focus on the five-v-five she’s in the middle of is worse than ever.

“Tobin!” A shout of her name catches Tobin’s attention, and her head snaps up in time to see one of the players on the pennied team she’s playing against sweep up the cross that Lindsey had just cut through for her. 

She curses to herself under her breath for not staying focused on the game. “Sorry, Lindsey!” Tobin calls to her teammate, who’s standing with her arms up and clearly baffled that Tobin didn’t make the run. 

Tobin redoubles her effort to keep her thoughts on track with the game. Still, her touches are clunky at best and her eye for the best plays seems to have completely abandoned her. 

When they finally get called off Tobin is relieved to have the break. She’s tired, and not only physically. She’s tired of feeling the ball hit her foot just a little bit wrong every time, and of watching her teammates pretend not to be disappointed every time she makes a mistake. 

She’s still standing and catching her breath when a hand touches lightly to her upper arm. Tobin turns and sees Vlatko looking at her. He gestures for her to follow him. He’s trying to be subtle and not obviously call her out. The other players do her the courtesy of acting like they don’t notice when Tobin and their coach step out of earshot.

“Tobin, what is going on?” Vlatko sounds exasperated. They haven’t worked together extensively yet, but from just a couple of camps he knows this play is nothing close to ordinary for her.

Tobin sighs, shuffling her feet against the grass. “Just a little off my game, I guess,” she starts, letting the sentence trail into silence. Vlatko waits for her to elaborate. “Haven’t been feeling my best.”

“Is there an injury I should know about? Something nagging you that we need to rest or watch out for?” 

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m feeling great.” He looks at her hard, picking up on the obvious lie. “Well, I mean, I’m not injured. Nothing specific is hurting.” Nothing physical anyway.

She glances over at the other players still running their drills, watching for a minute as an excuse to break the tension of the conversation, but when she looks back Vlatko hasn’t gotten distracted. 

“Tobin,” he says, “My players' personal lives aren’t any of my business. But it becomes the business of the team when it starts affecting the way you play.”

“I know.”

“Whatever is going on I hope it gets better, but in the meantime, you can’t bring outside circumstances onto the field with you.”

“Yes, coach.”

“You are a very important part of this team. I believe in the work you’ve put in and the results you’ve helped the team achieve in the past, but that isn’t something you can lean on. We need you to be playing at your full potential every day.”

She nods, agreeing with everything he’s saying and embarrassed that he has to say it. She has never fallen so far from form for any reason other than injury since her professional career started. Tobin shuffles and looks over to the field where play is going on again. 

Vlatko exhales. “Okay, get back in there. Let me know if there is anything we can do to help you.”

Tobin nods again, and thanks him quickly as she turns to jog back across the field. 

*****

Lindsey finds Tobin in the locker room after practice and invites her to grab lunch with her and Sonnett. Well, more accurately she tells Tobin that they’re going without leaving much room for refusal, but Tobin goes along with it easily, welcoming the distraction of being out with her friends. 

Allie ends up joining them too, and the four easily choose a local cafe. It’s nice enough to sit outside. Between the gentle sun, good food, and lighthearted conversation with people she cares about, Tobin almost feels normal again. She can tell her teammates are being careful to steer the conversation away from anything to do with Christen or their own dating lives without making a big deal out of it and Tobin is grateful for the effort. 

They decide to walk back to the hotel when they’re finished eating, not in a rush and content to spend more of their afternoon wandering in the sun. Music drifts from one of the stores they pass, which prompts Sonnett to start dancing. A block later they’re far out of earshot but she’s still going, rocking her shoulders back and forth and pointing at her feet as she steps one leg over the other and taps her toes against the ground. Lindsey is switching noncommittally between encouraging her and pretending to be annoyed while Allie cheers her on and tries to copy some of the moves. Tobin smiles along.

“Uh oh, how we gonna stop this thing?” Sonnett says, referring to her own dancing body as they approach a red light. She stutter-steps to a stop and hits an enthusiastic whip while they wait for the crosswalk to switch. The dramatic aggression of the dance move startles a laugh out of Tobin, and she lets out a whoop of approval. 

Sonnett turns bright eyes to Tobin, smiling at her participation, and cocks her eyebrows as she holds eye contact with her and starts an exaggerated nae nae. 

“Yes, Son!” Lindsey says. The red hand switches to the walking signal and they all tumble onto the street, Sonnett doing more of a weird walk than an actual dance now, and Allie bobbing along beside her. Lindsey reaches out to grab Tobin’s shoulder as they watch their friends’ shenanigans from behind. 

Another genuine, open-mouthed, full laugh tumbles from Tobin’s lips, and in the moment she doesn’t even notice how foreign a laugh like that is to her these days. Not until they finish crossing the street, turn the corner, and the sound abruptly dies out.

One of the cafes on the street has a heavily populated patio full of other people also enjoying the weather. At one of the tables right against the railing that separates the dining area from the sidewalk are Megan, Ali, Ash, and Christen. 

Tobin clears her throat and tries to hide how much seeing the other group has changed her mood, but all of her friends have also noticed their teammates and immediately look to her. She smiles awkwardly at them and keeps walking, determined to not let anything ruin her afternoon. It only takes a handful of seconds for the walking group to reach their seated teammates, and a chorus of greetings are exchanged.

Sonnett slaps palms with Ashlynn, and Ali says something about how glad she is to have this time off today. Tobin agrees along with everyone else. Everyone in the group is hyper-aware of her and Christen.

Tobin chances a glance to the far side of the table where Christen sits and finds Christen looking back. “Hey. It’s so nice out today,” Christen offers cautiously. It’s a safe topic— small talk about the weather. Her voice is quiet and soft like she’s afraid of startling Tobin. 

“Yeah, it is,” Tobin says back with a tight smile. The sun is at Christen’s back, shining through the loose hair around her shoulders and making the edges of it shine gold. It looks so soft that Tobin wants to reach out and run her fingers through it. A month ago she would have done it without a second thought. 

Tobin tears her eyes away before she’s tempted to do something stupid. She tunes in to the conversations of everyone else catching up with each other and tries to join in. Ali, Ashlynn, and Megan are some of Tobin’s best friends on the team, but for some reason, her interactions with them feel stilted and forced for the couple of short minutes the group stands there. 

It’s because normally she would have already been there at lunch with them, Tobin realizes. And now she can’t be. Not when Christen is there, too. She wonders if they’re all as acutely aware of this fact as she is all of a sudden. 

Ali and Ashlynn had invited her to coffee the other day, and Megan had stopped by her hotel room to watch a Premier League game last night. They were all being wonderful, supportive friends to Tobin, but they were still Christen’s friends too, and now they all had to choose which of the two exes to invite out in a group. 

Tobin hopes they don’t feel guilty. The twist of rejection in her chest isn’t enough to overpower the fact that logically Tobin knows that none of them have done anything wrong by meeting without her. 

The groups split again, with promises to see each other later at the hotel or at practice. The walk is much quieter and more subdued than before. Tobin sighs and glances around at her teammates, who avert their eyes to not be caught staring. 

“Don’t look at me like that guys,” she says. “I don’t need you to tiptoe around me.”

“Okay,” Lindsey says, but no one knows what else to say so the group stays silent except for the soft rhythm of their footfalls.

“I just need to get over it. Get back to normal. Clearly Chris isn’t bothered by what happened anymore.” Tobin pauses to swallow and try to suppress the shakiness in her voice that rose when she said Christen’s name. Push away the thickness in her throat that came from remembering how Christen looked sitting there with friends. Enjoying her time out with people, living a normal life, not letting thoughts of Tobin bog her down. 

“I guess I just, uh…” She clears her throat lightly. “She’s over it so I just need to get over it, too.”

It feels like a lie somehow, to even suggest the possibility of getting over Christen to her friends. She’s so far from feeling okay about the breakup that she can’t even imagine seeing Christen and not having a swell of emotion threaten to drown her. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to think of the woman again without mourning her lost chance at love and wondering how she could have been better for Christen. 

Being with Christen had made her feel stronger and safer and happier than she had ever been in her life. It killed Tobin to think that maybe Christen hadn’t felt the same way. In Tobin’s eyes, their relationship had only been getting better. Until all of a sudden it had slammed to a halt and made Tobin reevaluate everything she thought she knew.

Tobin, honestly, didn’t know how anyone could get over losing someone who meant so much. But she could pretend. “It’s not fair to you guys if I keep dragging down the mood. If she can have a normal lunch out with friends I should also be able to.” She pushes her lips into what she hopes is more of a smile than a grimace. 

“Tobin…” Lindsey starts incredulously.

“It’s okay, Lindsey, I promise. We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not that. It’s… Christen’s not over it. I don’t know if this will help or hurt but… you said Christen is over it. I don’t think she is at all.”

Tobin opens her mouth to brush Lindsey off, sure she’s just trying to make Tobin feel better, but Allie speaks before she gets the chance. “Harry, she was looking at you the whole time we were standing there. I don’t think she heard a single thing anyone said.” 

There’s no way. Her friends are reading too much into things. Christen hadn’t been that focused on her. Though it’s not like Tobin would really know either way with how pointedly she had forced her attention away from the women at the table that she wanted most to see. 

“Yeah,” Sonnett adds in, “I don’t think she’d be able to say which of the rest of us had even been there if someone asked.”

Their words settle heavy in Tobin’s stomach. Tobin tries to push the thought of Christen being distracted by her from her mind. If Tobin had turned back again while they stood there, Christen's gaze would have been waiting to meet her own. The thought that she could have had even that much from the woman she loves throws her off balance. 

But it’s dangerous to be hopeful for these little things because, in the end, it will never be enough. She won’t let herself process this too much or consider the possible implications of what her friends are telling her. She can’t. Obsessing over what Christen may or may not be feeling is a rabbit hole that could easily drive Tobin insane if she let herself tumble in. 

So she shrugs her shoulders and keeps walking. She watches her step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the great feedback on chapter one!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where I post consistently and NCC isn't about to win the Challenge Cup

Tobin knows she isn’t playing great tonight. She hasn’t been playing well since Christen broke up with her almost two months ago— and wow, has it really been that long already? Two months without Christen. Enough time that people probably don’t consider the break-up a recent event anymore, but somehow Tobin still feels wrong thinking of herself as single. Still hasn’t found her footing in this new stage of her personal life. Still apparently lets her emotions affect her play.

The first half of the game was a little choppy on everyone’s part as the team brushed off some rust. They’re a goal up at the half, but it was a sloppy job, barely knocked in after two deflections on a corner kick. And sure, Tobin’s touches haven’t been the cleanest and she hasn’t contributed to any big plays, but she’s holding her own. If she’s not doing well, at least she’s doing well enough.

Or that’s what she thought. But the whistle for the start of the second half is blowing and Tobin is sitting on the bench. Vlatko almost always waits to make his first subs until the sixtieth or seventieth minute. On top of that, this is just a friendly and the team’s first game in a long time. Vlatko is experimenting with the lineup. He emphasized that a few mistakes are bound to happen and that it’s okay; it’s a learning experience. This is a time for leniency.

But still, Tobin was subbed out at the half. Forty-five minutes of play had been enough to cement her as more of a liability than an asset to her team.

Frustration gathers in its usual places. Her shoulders, her forearms, her jaw. Tobin clenches and unclenches her hands in an attempt at diffusing some of this buzzing, volatile energy. It won’t help anything if her coaches or teammates notice how affected she is. It isn’t them she was frustrated with anyway.

Tobin is the one who has been playing too poorly to stay in the game. And not only that, she hasn’t even been self-aware enough to realize how far from her usual form she’s fallen. She hasn’t been concerned with her play or frustrated with herself on the field like she normally would be. When did she become the type of player that doesn’t hold herself to the highest standard? Stop emotionally investing in every game? Stop pushing herself?

Usually, she makes a point to be consciously grateful for her opportunities in life every time she steps onto a soccer pitch, but today she hasn’t felt that gratitude once. She is too worked up about her personal struggles to properly appreciate her team or the sport. How could she let that happen? How has she gone so long without noticing?

Tension builds in her chest— the kind that feels like it can only be released by screaming— but she just clenches her jaw harder instead.

No, she isn’t mad at Vlatko for taking her off. If anything she wishes he would punish her more somehow. Yell at her, or give her extra workouts to do. She deserves to be reprimanded more harshly for her selfish actions, but people are still treating her like she’s too fragile to hear the truth.

Tobin squeezes her eyes shut hard and when she reopens them she tries to focus on the game. The other team boots the ball down the field and Christen flies past the bench as she tracks back to defend, all confident strides and determined stare.

She’s comfortable on the field in the way that Tobin has been most of her life. Comfortable in a way Tobin can’t even imagine feeling right now.

*****

The hotel room Tobin is sharing with Sam is quiet. It’s not too late, but both women immediately changed into sweats and T-shirts after the game and flopped onto their beds upon returning to the hotel.

Sam had taken note of Tobin’s mood and offered a few comforting words, but let the subject easily drop when Tobin had thanked her and made no move to continue the conversation. They share the space easily and let each other unwind, both women scrolling through their phones and letting their bodies rest.

A soft knock at the door causes them to look up. Probably Rose or Mal or Sonnett coming to rope Sam into some of the shenanigans they always have the energy for. Sam seems to make the same assumption. “I’ve got it,” she says and pushes herself up to answer the door.

Tobin can’t see down the hall where the door is, but when she hears Sam pull it open, the following muffled sounds of conversation are much more subdued than Tobin expected from any of Sam’s friends.

Sam reemerges around the corner. “I’m just going to go down the hall and see what Rose is up to,” she says as she swipes her phone off the bed and pushes her feet into slides.

“Okay, have fun,” Tobin says, still lounging back against the headboard of her bed. Sam gives her a small closed-lipped smile that Tobin can’t quite read, but she doesn’t have time to wonder about it for too long because another figure steps quietly into the room behind Sam.

Christen.

“Hey.” Her voice is hesitant and barely reaches Tobin from where she stands at the very edge of the room.

There’s a beat of silence where everyone expects someone else to talk and then Sam clears her throat. “So, uh text me I guess if you… Umm. Well, text me if you, like…” She fidgets with her phone, looking back and forth between the other two women in the room and seeing that they’re paying her very little attention. “You know, feel free if you need anything,” she waves her phone up and chuckles awkwardly. She gives Tobin one last long look before turning and quickly sliding past Christen and out of the room.

The click of the door behind her signals that they’re alone.

“I just wanted to come by and check on you,” Christen starts. “Not that you need checking on, but it was a rough game for everyone and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

“Yeah,” Tobin says, wincing slightly at the reminder of how poorly she had played.

Tobin’s interactions with Christen at practice have gotten more frequent. They sometimes get put in the same groups during training because nothing has changed the fact that they need to be able to perform together on the field. It’s impossible to ignore each other at practices and team meetings, but any time they’ve spoken it’s been either directly related to soccer or limited to brief pleasantries.

They definitely haven’t been alone in a room together since the initial split.

“Uh, thanks.” Tobin repositions herself so she’s sitting more upright against the headrest of her bed. “I’ll be fine. You played well.”

Christen shrugs. It hadn’t been her best game but there wasn’t anything she could complain about either.

She clasps her hands in front of her where she’s still standing at the mouth of the hallway, looking a little lost now that Tobin’s response gave her so little to build off of. “Okay, well I’m glad you’re doing okay.” She kicks the toe of her shoe against the thin carpeting. “I’ll just go I guess if there’s nothing you want to talk about. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I expected coming here. I—”

“Wait,” Tobin interrupts when Christen starts backing away. “It was nice of you to come. You don’t have to go yet if you don’t want to.”

Christen pauses but still looks unsure of herself.

“Really,” Tobin continues. “You’re right, it was a rough game for me. Guess I’m just not too eager to acknowledge the fact that I’m failing at the one thing I’m supposed to be good at right now.” She forces a laugh so her last statement doesn’t hit too hard.

In reality, soccer isn’t the only thing she’s failing at either. She hasn’t been taking good care of herself or keeping up with her family and friends as much as she should be. She’s obviously failed at being a good enough girlfriend for Christen— another thing she had until recently thought she was pretty good at. But soccer is what they’re talking about. And it’s already enough of a blow for Christen to see her fall short at one thing without knowing the rest of her life is falling apart as well.

“Having one off game doesn’t mean you’re failing, Tobs,” Christen says softly.

Tobin swallows down the temptation to immediately counter Christen about it being just one game. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Christen shifts her weight where she’s still standing a comical distance away. “Here, come sit,” Tobin gestures automatically to the open space on her bed. She second-guesses the offer when Christen hesitates, and wonders if she should have pointed to a chair or Sam’s bed instead, but then Christen toes off the casual shoes she had worn over and climbs gently onto the hotel mattress to join Tobin sitting on top of the covers.

Christen settles criss-cross on the empty side of the bed, facing Tobin. There’s still plenty of space between them but every foot closer they get steals some oxygen from the air.

Tobin takes in Christen’s comfortable clothes. A baggy sweatshirt, a pair of soccer shorts, a messy bun, bare feet. It’s been a long time since they’ve been in such a casual environment with each other and it makes Tobin’s chest ache for the days when she would get to see Christen like this every morning and every night.

“Everyone is still getting back into the swing of things. It’s okay to be a little off your game,” Christen says.

Tobin scoffs. “Not everyone played so bad that they had to be subbed off at half.” She doesn’t mean to be so negative but her disappointment with herself bubbles up.

“Players get subbed all the time.” Christen looks up from where she had been fiddling with the hem of her sleeve and catches Tobin’s eye. “I don’t think you need to read so much into it.”

Tobin takes a deep breath and speaks slowly as she decides what she’s going to say.

“I’m not upset that I got subbed. It was the right call. I just can’t believe I played so badly and didn’t even care enough to be mad at myself until I was taken out at half time.” Tobin pulls her legs up from where they are stretched out in front of her so that her knees are bent and tucked close into her chest instead.

Christen reaches out and pushes through the invisible barrier buzzing between them to place a hand on Tobin’s knee. Tobin’s own hand moves to cover Christen’s automatically and the warmth of the skin to skin contact feels so intimate that it takes her breath away.

“We can’t always be hard on ourselves. It wouldn’t be healthy to stress over every mistake.” Christen laughs. “That might be a lesson I still need to teach myself sometimes.”

“But I love football. Or, I loved football, I don’t know.” Tobin lets her head fall back, exasperated. “I still want to love it but everything feels different all of a sudden. It’s so much of my life and it doesn’t feel important anymore. I’ve never had to try to care about it before.”

Tobin doesn’t know how this got so serious so fast. Even after everything, Christen somehow makes Tobin comfortable enough to open up. With barely any interaction today she has read Tobin well enough to know that she needs someone to talk to tonight.

“It’s natural for your passion for things to ebb and flow. Give it time. You’re Tobin Heath,” she smirks teasingly. “I’m sure your love for the game will come back.”

“I know you’re right. But it’s hard.” Tobin swallows. “To be losing something I love.”

The weight of those words and all of their meanings fall slowly.

Tobin hadn’t planned on sharing these thoughts with anyone, but Christen doesn’t even need to say anything; she just keeps a gentle hand on Tobin’s knee and gives her patient attention and somehow Tobin starts talking again.

“And it’s not just one thing I love. It’s everything all at once.” Tobin is barely speaking above a whisper— as if she’s not actually sure if she wants to be heard.

Instead of asking her to speak up Christen crawls up the bed to be closer. She seats herself against the headboard with her feet planted on the duvet, mirroring Tobin’s pose.

Christen replaces the hand on Tobin’s knee, only a few inches separate where they sit beside each other on the bed. The familiar warmth of Christen tempts Tobin to shift over and close the distance enough to brush shoulders or press the outsides of their thighs together, but she stays put.

“I don’t have you, and all of my relationships with the friends we share have a weird tension now. And football. I didn’t think I would ever lose football but I’m not playing like I used to. I don’t even want to play as much as I used to.”

Not having to look Christen in the eye makes the confessions flow more easily from Tobin’s lips.

“Kicking a ball around made me so happy and being on the field made me feel the most at peace. That should be what I’m turning to and using to cope but I can’t even force myself to care about it.”

“Tobin, you’re not losing any of that. Sure, it might be different for a while, and changes like this take time to get used to, but I’m not what made you successful. At anything.” Christen's legs fall slightly to the side, and Tobin lets hers drift closer too, but not far enough to connect. She doesn’t want to be the one to overstep some undefined boundary.

“You were great before me. A fantastic soccer player, a loving friend. Creative and carefree and kind. You don’t need me to be any of those things. You’re wonderful all on your own.” Christen pauses, patient enough to let herself be thoughtful in a way that Tobin has tried to emulate over the years. “I think we’ve both needed a reminder of that for a while. That we can be special as individuals."

“Christen, I...” Tobin’s eyes are wide and bright with moisture. Her head shakes slightly as she tries to find a way to explain why nothing can go back to being the same as before they were together.

“Chris, loving you— being with you— was so freeing. It was new and fun, like… like running through the streets of a foreign city. We were so full of energy, excited to see what was around every turn, knowing that whatever it was we could face it together. I was so, so happy to be running with you, Chris. It didn’t matter where we ended up or how far we got from where we started because we were together and facing the unknown together was electrifying. And however deep in the tangled streets we ended up it didn’t matter because I had you, and you had me, and we were safe.”

Tobin takes a shaky breath and Christen squeezes her knee reassuringly, emotion tinting her features.

“But while we were running around I wasn’t paying attention to the turns or keeping track of how I would find my way back. I didn’t think I would need to. So now I’m just wandering around and everything is unfamiliar. You’re not by my side anymore to make a foreign place feel like home. And I can’t just go back to where I started, Chris. I— I don’t know how. I don’t have anyone to help me find my way. I’m just lost.” The last word catches in her throat.

At that Christen finally breaks through the fragile barrier of uncertainty that had settled between them. Her arm is up and around Tobin’s shoulders in a flash, pulling the other girl solidly against her side. Her arms absorb the vibrations of Tobin’s shoulders when they start to shake, and she holds the woman tightly against her chest.

“Tobin, you don’t have to do this alone. I’m not gone. I’ll always be here if you need someone. If you need me. I would never cut you off or leave you behind.”

Tobin curls herself into Christen’s side, face buried in one shoulder and a hand fisting the loose fabric of Christen's sweatshirt on the far side of her chest.

All of a sudden, like this, Tobin is small. Despite her physical strength and her presence on the field and her usual cool confidence, she’s just a person. A little bit shorter than Christen. Slight enough that the arm wrapped around her back can easily reach her opposite shoulder.

Christen tucks her face down against the top of the other woman’s head. Their bodies fold into each other as naturally as they had two months ago and the familiarity of holding each other hits like the first smell of home after being away for a long time.

Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe it would be healthier to keep some distance and heal independently.

But Tobin is crying into Christen’s sweatshirt and silent tears are rolling down Christen’s cheeks into Tobin’s hair as they hold each other.

Maybe this won’t fix anything but it’s hard to believe it’s worse than being alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated as always :)


	4. Chapter 4

Tobin runs a lazy hand through her hair as she shuffles into the room of the hotel where her teammates are eating breakfast. She’s sporting a lazy look of a sweatshirt, slides, and glasses — because putting contacts in had seemed like far too much effort — but glancing around she finds herself in similar company. 

The short run of friendlies would wrap up tonight, and would likely result in a comfortable win. Vlatko saved the lowest stress opponent for last. The game isn’t until the evening so the team can take their time with breakfast and spend most of the day lounging around and squeezing in some last-minute rest before kick-off. 

Tobin loops her hair into something resembling a bun as she approaches the breakfast bar. She piles some food onto a plate and slides into the closest open chair at one of the large round tables.

The chatter at the table fades slightly when she sits. Tobin looks up and finds the reason for this when she sees Christen sitting directly to her left. Tobin gives her a sleepy, closed-mouth smile which Christen casually returns before turning her attention back to a conversation with Julie. The conversation at the table picks back up again once everyone realizes that the exes sitting together isn’t going to cause any awkwardness. 

Tobin tears a hunk of her bagel and chews it leisurely, happy to listen to the discussions happening around her instead of immediately jumping into them. Nearly-too-hot coffee washes it down. 

She’s tired, but not in a bad way. It’s the kind of tired that comes from working hard, not from sleepless nights and constant stress. Ever since the night of the first friendly when Tobin had spilled all of her pent up anxieties to Christen, she’s felt a lot better. Just getting those fears and feelings off of her chest had loosened her up enough that she’d managed to play decently in the previous game, even getting an assist in the second half.

There was less tension between her and Christen now, too. That night of vulnerability reminded Tobin that Christen isn’t some untouchable entity. She is still a gentle, kind-hearted person that Tobin can be comfortable acting herself around, even if they aren’t together anymore. 

All of a sudden a balled-up straw wrapper shoots between the triangle of her two propped elbows and the coffee cup she’s holding in both hands and bounces off Tobin’s sweatshirt. 

“Arm-meg!” Sonnett shouts excitedly from across the table.

“Ooh, Tobin, look out,” Rose teases, “You’re going to lose your title as Nutmeg Queen.”

Tobin laughs and flicks the wrapper back in Sonnett’s direction. “It’s okay. I would steal Sonnett’s signature move but...” 

“But?” Rose prompts.

Tobin shrugs noncommittally, a joking smile in her eyes. “Yellow’s not really my color.”

“Oh, burn!” Lindsey chimes in as Sonnett throws her head back in laughter. The group continues to tease each other with the confidence and ease that comes from knowing they’ve all been playing well, and have an easy, low-stress game coming up tonight. 

Tobin turns her attention to Christen and catches her smiling at the younger players as they rile each other up. She feels Tobin’s attention and turns to catch her eye. “Now, look what you’ve started,” she jokes with a grin and a slight shake of her head.

At that moment Rose’s hand aggressively slide tackles the two fingers that Sonnett has standing on the table and a set of silverware clatters noisily to the floor. 

Tobin holds her hands up in a show of innocence. “Hey, that’s not on me. I just participated in a little trash talk with Sonny. I have no involvement in the dirty plays going on over there.”

“Maybe so,” Christen agrees easily. “Trash talking Sonnett is a bit unfair though. She doesn’t even know how to trash talk. She tries but just ends up complimenting people.”

Tobin considers this for a second and then chuckles at the accuracy of the statement. “You’re right, you’re right. Here, I’ll fix it.” Tobin waits for a lull in the cacophony of a hand soccer match taking place beside her on the table. 

“Hey, Sonnett,” she calls, capturing the defender’s attention. “Nice shirt.”

Christen laughs and Sonnett beams briefly— until a crumpled piece of napkin flicked by Lindsey bounces off her forehead and she dives back into their game. 

*****

The team wins the final friendly as comfortably as expected. With no immediate upcoming games and only an easy morning of film review scheduled for tomorrow most the players end up in a local bar to celebrate and unwind.

Tobin’s own playing has vastly improved since the early games, and she shares the carefree joy of her teammates. Talking to Christen and finally sharing some of the insecurities that had been plaguing her left Tobin lighter, and her usual confidence was coaxing its way back into her play.

It’s only around ten, but with their strict sleep schedules, it already feels like a rebelliously late night. The tab is being covered as a team bonding expense, and with a rare few days rest approaching the drinks are flowing with careless ease. 

Tobin slides through the crowd and up to the bar. She finds Ashlynn already flagging down one of the bartending staff and brings her hand to the other woman’s shoulder. Ashlynn turns and grins, giving Tobin a quick hug. “Hey Tobes,” she speaks loudly to be heard over the music and chatter, “When’d you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” Tobin pauses to survey the busy room. “Seems like we gathered quite a crowd. It’s nice though, it’s been a while since we’ve all had the chance to go out.”

Anyone connected to the team that happens to be in the area— friends and family, girlfriends and boyfriends— are filtering in and out to participate in the celebration and the group easily overwhelms the regular local crowd.

Ash laughs. “We did! I don’t know how this team manages to know so many people in every city we visit.”

“Hey, what can I get for you?” A young, blonde girl in a T-shirt with the bar’s logo smiles politely at Ashlyn from across the counter. Ashlynn orders a drink for herself and one that Tobin assumes is for Ali.

“And you?” the girl asks when Ash is done, turning her attention to Tobin. Her eyes flick unabashedly down Tobin’s body and back up to her face.

Tobin skims the menu hanging behind the bar and quickly chooses one of the listed beers.

“Coming right up,” the girl says with a grin and a wink as she turns to gather their orders.

As soon as the girl is gone Ashlynn jostles her shoulder. “Geez Tobin, what is it with you and the young ones? That girl looks barely out of college and she’s falling all over you.”

Tobin laughs awkwardly. “Probably just trying to get a good tip. It’s a bartender’s job to charm their customers.”

“Well she certainly wasn’t charming me like that,” Ashlynn teases. “I could practically see her mentally undressing you.”

Tobin is saved from replying by the girl returning with a drink in each hand and sliding them across the counter to Ashlynn. “Sorry,” she says, addressing Tobin, “We ran out of that beer in the front fridges. If you wait a minute I can run to the back and grab some to restock.”

“Sure,” Tobin agrees.

Ashlynn picks up the glasses and turns to Tobin. “Can I take these to Ali or do I need to stay here and protect your honor?”

Tobin rolls her eyes at her friend. “Go find your wife. My honor and I can handle ourselves.”

Ashlynn’s eyes dart to where the girl is stepping into what must be a storage room. “Or, you know, you could abandon your honor and have some fun.” Ashlynn smirks at Tobin’s appalled look.

“Ashlynn!”

“What? I’m just saying—she’s hot. And this is a party.”

“Go find your wife before I tell her you’re calling the server hot.”

Ashlynn laughs as she starts walking away. “She’d agree with me!”

Tobin shakes her head, smiling at her friend’s antics as she turns back to the bar.

The girl returns shortly with a case of beer in her arms and quickly sets it down next to the fridge and pulls one out for Tobin. “So, are you two together?” The girl nods toward Ashlynn’s retreating figure.

“Oh, no,” Tobin responds. “Just friends.”

The corners of the girl’s lips turn up as she pops the cap off Tobin’s beer. “I see. Well then, are you single?”

“Um,” Tobin pauses, as the girl hands the beer to her, with her hand wrapped around it far enough that Tobin has to brush her fingers to take it. “I am single. Not really looking for anything right now though.” She clears her throat lightly. “I’m not from around here anyway,” she adds, wanting to let the girl down easily.

“That’s okay. Seems like you guys are celebrating something.” The girl shrugs. Her eyes trace down to take in Tobin’s tight shirt and jeans again, more slowly and purposefully than the first time. “I can help you celebrate if you want,” she offers with an easy smile.

Tobin’s cheeks heat up at the forwardness of the bartender. She ignores the automatic twinge of interest in her body at being propositioned after months of not sleeping with anyone. “Uh, thank you but I think I’m going to just spend some time with my teammates tonight.”

The girl smiles and takes the rejection in stride. “Okay, have fun. Let me know if you change your mind.” She gives Tobin a final wink and turns to help the next person at the bar.

Tobin takes a long sip of her drink to cool down the traitorous flush that she feels on her skin. A nearby group of idling teammates splits to make room for her as she walks up.

Christen is here somewhere— Tobin saw her when she first entered the bar— but isn’t one of this small group. It’s a small disappointment, but probably for the best. Their interactions have become a lot more normal recently, but Tobin is still nervous she might do something stupid once they’re both a few drinks in. 

She falls easily into the chatter of the group. Allie comes by with a tray of jello shots, and though she’s teased that they’re juvenile, everyone tips one back. The worries and stresses of the recent months fall away as Tobin allows herself to be fully absorbed in this moment of unwinding with her teammates. 

Eventually, Tobin needs to replace her empty drink and makes another trip to the bar. She is saved from randomly choosing another beer based on name alone when the bartender from earlier suggests her own favorite draft. Tobin takes the recommendation gratefully and returns the girl’s bright smile before returning to her friends. 

The bartender’s recommendation ends up being far better than the first drink Tobin had picked for herself. Time slides by between jokes and laughs and Tobin’s glass gets warmer and lighter. 

Kelley jostles her way through the crowd towards the small group of players. A bottle is pushed into Tobin’s hand as Kelley starts distributing the armful of beers she has procured for everyone, and she takes it with a smile. She finishes off the last swallow of her old drink, setting the glass aside to be replaced by the fresh cold bottle. 

“Damn, I know I’m taken but that girl over there hanging with Pressi is hawt.” Kelley jokes casually to the group as she finishes handing out drinks. 

Tobin’s attention snaps to Kelley but she’s looking down at her hands as she tries to pass the drinks out without dropping any. 

“Damn Kelley, control yourself!” floats teasingly from somewhere in the circle.

Tobin tries to look casual as she scans the room to find Christen. 

“What, I’m not gonna do anything about it,” Kelley laughs. “Plus, my girl’s still hotter anyway.”

Christen is standing off to the side of the room up against one of the walls. It must be quieter over there, but she’s still leaning in to within inches of the other woman’s ear to say something with a wide grin. The woman beside her bursts into laughter and Christen leans back to watch her fondly. The woman comfortably brings a hand to Christen’s bare upper arm to pull her closer again so she’ll be heard when she responds. 

Tobin doesn’t recognize the other woman but acknowledges begrudgingly that Kelley was right about her being attractive. She clearly put some effort into her hair and makeup, but it doesn’t overwhelm the natural beauty of her face, and tight jeans and a crop top show off a fit body. 

Tobin takes a deep breath and tries to stop her brain from spiraling with possibilities of who this woman could be to Christen. 

The hand on Christen’s arm doesn’t fall or move away. It even seems to curve farther around Christen’s bicep as the woman steps back a half step to take a long look at Christen’s legs, generously shown off in a pair of tiny jean shorts. She’s still speaking casually to Christen, who seems unphased by the attention. Tobin is stunned by the openness of it. She’s even more surprised that Christen seems to be welcoming the unabashed attention to her body, even in such a public place. 

Tobin takes a long pull of her drink. The cold liquid momentarily counteracts the heat that’s rising in her chest partially from thinking about Christen’s body, but mostly from the agitation of watching someone else think about Christen’s body. 

Energy coils in her forearms and shoulders, and Tobin itches to do something about it, but she knows that there’s nothing she can do. She’s lost the privilege of having a say over who gets to look at Christen, who gets to touch her. 

The group around her has long since moved on to talking about something else, and Tobin knows her staring must not be subtle, but she can’t force her attention away. 

The woman’s hand finally falls from Christen’s shoulder as she leans back against the wall, and Tobin is momentarily relieved. Almost immediately though, Christen’s arm is rising, and her palm flattens on the exposed skin of the woman’s stomach beneath her crop top. 

And this is worse. Tobin’s jaw clenches. The weight of watching Christen touch someone else, of watching Christen’s fingers slide over the warmth of another woman’s skin, forces the breath from Tobin’s lungs. 

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she mumbles as she discards her bottle on a table and stalks away from the group. Her eyes stay trained on the ground and flit between the sticky patches of spilled drinks, shuffling shoes, table legs. Anything but the scene against the wall. 

The bathroom door bangs against the wall when she swings it open too hard. She paces back and forth in the open space in front of the mirror of the empty bathroom and tries to steady the race of her heart 

Tobin isn’t allowed to be mad at this. Christen isn’t doing anything wrong. But reminding herself of these things does nothing to dissolve the tense buzzing in her body. Tobin walks up to the mirror and tries taking deep breaths. She rakes a hand through her hair to smooth out a couple of places that are looking untidy. Does Christen appreciate the added effort the woman she’s with clearly puts into styling her hair? Tobin rarely puts any effort into hers other than on media days, and even then it’s minimal. Christen had never complained, but…

The door opens behind Tobin, and she jumps as the bartender who served her earlier walks in. 

The girl notices the tension in Tobin’s posture. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you! Just came in to check if the paper towels need to be switched.” The girl lifts the full replacement roll of paper towels in her hand. “Did you notice if it’s low?”

“Oh, no. I uh, I don’t know. I haven’t used them.”

“Okay, no worries.” She steps around Tobin to check and loads the new roll into the container. 

Tobin watches her, starting to calm just a little bit now that she has something to distract the downhill tumble of her thoughts. She remembers the girl’s flirting from earlier and wonders if the brief flare of interest that she’d felt at the bar would have grown if she hadn’t immediately tamped it down. Her gaze drifts to the girl's ass, complemented nicely by tight jeans. Definitely not bad.

A persistent thrum of adrenaline is still rolling through Tobin’s body. It’s jittery, active energy that Tobin doesn’t think she’ll be able to walk off no matter how many laps around the bathroom she does. 

The girl turns back and smiles questioningly when she finds Tobin still staring at her. She walks a few steps toward the door and then looks back at Tobin, seeming unsure of herself for the first time of the night. Tobin’s stiff stance and intense energy are hard to read. 

They make long eye contact, and Tobin swallows hard. 

“I can still… help you out,” the girl ventures. “Only if you want, of course.”

Tobin stays silent for a beat too long and the girl backtracks. 

“Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to push myself on you so persistently. I just couldn’t tell exactly what you—”

“Yes,” Tobin interrupts. 

The bartender pauses. “Yes?”

“Come here,” Tobin says with more confidence than she feels, reaching one arm slightly toward the bartender. Her eyes stay trained on the girl’s lips as she walks to Tobin. As soon as she’s close enough Tobin slides her waiting hand over the girl's hip bone and they’re kissing. Hungrily. If the bartender is thrown off by the immediate pace of the kiss, she doesn’t show it. 

Lips are parted from the start, tongues meeting within seconds. 

She’s blonde. It’s been a long time since Tobin has kissed a blonde girl. Not usually her type. 

The girl’s arms sneak under Tobin’s own and her hands come to rest on the backs of Tobin’s shoulders. She cranes her neck to the side and deepens the kiss eagerly. Tobin inhales deeply through her nose so their lips don’t need to separate, and takes in the fruity smell of the bartender’s shampoo. Her fingers thread into the hair at the base of the girl’s skull, and she closes them into a light fist around blonde hair, testing the waters. The girl moans against her mouth at the light pull and disconnects their lips. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” she says, looking Tobin over briefly, trailing her hands down Tobin’s sides and teasing her fingers slightly beneath the hem of her shirt. She presses her lips to Tobin’s chin, to her jaw, and has to stretch slightly to reach her ear. 

It feels good. Like Tobin’s body is doing something right in a natural, primal way that doesn’t leave room for self-doubt. As long as she doesn’t think about it too hard. 

She catches the girls chin in her fingers and guides their mouths back together. The girl presses her body forward so it’s flush against Tobin’s. It’s been a while since Tobin has felt the press of another chest, stomach, pelvis against her own and it’s like her body realizes all at once how much she’s missed it. Heat pools low in her abdomen. 

She pulls at the girl’s lower lip lightly with her teeth and then ducks down to suck and lick across the thin skin of her neck. She continues lower, tracing the dipping neckline of the bartender’s tank top with her lips and tongue. 

Tobin feels sure hands slide under her shirt and press flat against her stomach, gently but firmly guiding her backward until her ass is pressed against the porcelain edge of a sink. The girl closes the distance, framing one of Tobin’s legs with both of her own, but leaning back slightly to look down as she pushes Tobin’s shirt up above her stomach. 

“Jesus,” she says, tracing one hand over Tobin’s abs. “Someone said you were teammates out there. What sport do you play?” 

“Soccer,” Tobin answers easily, flexing her core muscles slightly for the girl. 

“Hot,” the girl says, in a way that makes Tobin think she couldn’t really care less what sport gave Tobin her physique but is glad that she has it. 

When the girl presses forward again their legs slot together and the blunt pressure of her thigh against Tobin’s core makes her groan. Tobin reaches around to the girl’s ass, pulling them more firmly together. The girl rocks forward, sensing what Tobin needs. Tobin matches her movements. They meet for another sloppy kiss, but pull away shortly, both taking quick, hot breaths. 

“Good?” The girl asks, sliding her hips forward again. A pleasant ache has settled in Tobin’s core, growing with each dull press of the girl’s leg against her clit through the many layers of clothes. 

“Yeah,” Tobin breaths.

The bartender’s finger’s dance over where Tobin’s shirt is still riding up, and rest over the button of her jeans, playing gently with the very edge of the waistband.

“Do you want me to…” The girl trails off, looking to Tobin’s face as a nail scratches lightly from one hipbone to the other. 

“Yeah,” Tobin says again. She swallows. “Yes. Please.” Tobin throbs in anticipation but isn’t left waiting long. 

The girl nods and pops the button open like that’s all she was waiting for. The zipper is down a second later, and a confident hand snakes its way under jeans and boxers directly to where Tobin wants it most. 

“Fuck,” she gasps as her hips jump automatically. 

“You’re so wet,” the bartender notices reverently. 

Tobin licks her lips, hyper-aware of every small adjustment of the girl’s fingers. She presses one hand back onto the edge of the sink to steady herself and the other grabs tightly on the girl’s waist. 

The girl pushes her hips forward against the shape of her own knuckles showing through the fabric of Tobin’s jeans. Tobin’s hips lurch again at the added pressure. 

“Feels good,” she mumbles, hoping to urge the girl on.

The girl smirks, and Tobin is bracing herself for whatever is next when the motion of the bathroom door swinging open catches in her peripheral vision. 

‘ _Shit_ ,’ she thinks. 

And then Christen steps in. 

“Shit,” she says. 

Their eyes meet, and Tobin can see the shock register as Christen realizes what she’s walked in on. Tobin, with a stranger’s hand down her pants in a public restroom at a random bar. 

Christen closes her mouth and trains her face into a carefully neutral expression. 

“Chris,” Tobin chokes. She has no idea what she’s going to follow up with, but it doesn’t matter because Christen turns and is back out the door as quickly as she came. 

“Shit shit shit fuck,” Tobin chants as the bartender extracts her hand from Tobin’s underwear. 

The girl's eyes study Tobin’s guilty features suspiciously. “Fuck, was that your girlfriend? You told me you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

Tobin cards the fingers of both hands deep into her hair. “I don’t. Not my girlfriend,” she manages, trying to subdue at least some of the panic that slammed through her as soon as she recognized those curls appearing from behind the door. 

Tobin squeezes her eyes shut and pulls in rapid breaths, trying to at least not cry. To at least keep it together enough that she doesn’t embarrass herself further. 

“Are you okay?” The girl approaches Tobin hesitantly but leaves some space between them. “You’re an adult you know. You’re allowed to have sex.”

“It’s complicated.” Tobin doesn’t want to explain herself to this girl. She opens her eyes and looks up to find a concerned gaze on her. She forces herself to straighten up and look like a little bit less of a wreck. 

“I’ll be fine,” Tobin says. “But I should go.”

“Yeah, sure.” The girl seems convinced enough to turn away from Tobin, step up to one of the sinks, and start washing her hands. 

Tobin fastens her pants and makes a halfhearted effort at straightening out her shirt as she starts for the door. 

“Um, hey,” Tobin says, pausing and turning back to catch the girl’s attention but realizing she doesn’t know her name. “Sorry about this. You didn’t do anything wrong. Um. Just so you know.”

The girl looks over her shoulder at Tobin and gives her a gentle smile. “I know. But thank you. I don’t know the details of what’s going on with you but if you’re single I don’t think you did anything wrong either. Just so you know,” she teases, copying Tobin’s delivery. “Well, you know, other than the public indecency.”

Despite the turmoil, the corner of Tobin’s lip quirks up at the bartender’s joke. 

“Thanks,” she says. Then she turns and takes one more collecting breath before walking back into the bar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and putting up with the long gaps between chapters! Let me know what you think of the story so far :))


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know that I don't own you,  
> and perhaps I never will,  
> so my anger when you're with her,  
> I have no right to feel.
> 
> I know that you don't owe me,  
> and I shouldn't ask for more;  
> I shouldn't feel so let down,  
> all the times when you don't call. 
> 
> What I feel— I shouldn't show you,  
> so when you're around I won't;  
> I know I've no right to feel it  
> but it doesn't mean I don't."
> 
> -Lang Leav

Tobin blinks hard against the change in lighting as she re-enters the main room of the bar. After a quick scan of the room, she doesn’t see Christen. She thinks about asking one of her teammates if they know where she went but decides it isn’t worth the inevitable questions that would bring up. Besides, Tobin still knows Christen well enough to suspect that she hasn’t stayed in here.

Tobin does her best to not draw any attention to herself as she makes her way to the front door of the bar and slips out into the night. There’s a slight chill in the air that takes her by surprise when she steps into it. The cool is a nice counterbalance to the heat that the alcohol has pushed up under her skin. It somehow makes the empty street seem even more open, and the contrast between the stuffy bar and the fresh air even starker. 

Other businesses stretch down the street without a break in the buildings in one direction, but to her right, Tobin notices the gap of an alleyway and turns toward it. It’s not until she steps around the corner and finds Christen exactly where she expected that Tobin realizes she doesn’t have a plan. There’s nothing but the instinctual urge to make sure that Christen is okay that brought Tobin out here. She has nothing to say. Not really. But now that she’s here she has to say something. 

“Chris?” Tobin asks gently.

Christen is standing with her back towards the outside of the bar, her profile perfectly outlined by the small yellow light hanging above the side door deeper down the alley. This area of the city is nice enough that even a side alley like this is obviously regularly maintained, and her back rests against the bricks without concern for grime. 

When she doesn’t get a response Tobin steps into the alley but keeps her distance from Christen, not wanting to stifle her. 

Tobin had hardly been aware of her adrenaline as she was rushing out here, but now that she’s standing still it's a little dizzying. Or maybe that’s the beer. 

Christen’s gaze stays on the wall across from her, so Tobin looks down at the asphalt, at the scrap of trash that drifts toward her in the wake of a light breeze, at her own feet, while she waits.

Standing still is also providing an unfortunate opportunity for the initial shock of being walked in on to settle into a poignant embarrassment as Tobin replays the details of how she was caught. Some of her nervous energy escapes through the shuffle of her shoes on the ground. Most of it just tumbles around in her chest. 

But Christen has never been one to rush Tobin to speak. She’s always allowed whatever time is necessary for Tobin to collect her thoughts and choose her words. There’s no reason for Tobin not to offer the same patience. 

So Tobin waits.

“Why did you come out here?” Christen asks finally. 

Tobin has nothing to offer but honesty. “To check on you.”

“I don’t need to be checked on.” It isn’t accusatory or defensive. Just a statement. 

“I know,” Tobin says. And she does. 

By now Tobin’s heartbeat has settled a little. Some of her anxiety has dissipated. Maybe it was sucked away by the open night sky above them. Maybe all of the extra energy that humans waste by feeling so much is what keeps the stars alight. 

“I’m not yours to check on.” Another statement. An acknowledgment.

And the stars are looking particularly bright tonight. 

Tobin sighs and moves to lean against the wall opposite Christen, but not directly across from her. A few feet to the side so she’s not forcing herself into Christen’s gaze. 

“There are plenty of reasons I would check on someone that I’m not dating.”

They both know that Christen is more aware of this than most. She’s always making sure her friends and teammates are doing okay.

“You could have stayed inside. I didn’t mean to interrupt you or to stop you. I wasn’t trying to get you to chase me out here.”

“I know, Christen. I came out because I wanted to. I want to help you if you’re hurting. I don’t know if I can, but… I still care about you and I don’t think either of us has it in our power to change that.”

The alley falls quiet again, other than the muffled bass of the music that had been blasting inside but now is barely audible through the wall. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Tobin asks. 

Christen’s jaw twitches. It’s the first break in her blank expression. The first hint of how much she’s holding back. 

“I’ve lost the right to ask you to stay.” 

It’s a flat, emotionless tone. One that would convince most people that Christen is unbothered. Tobin’s eyebrows scrunch together in concern. She recognizes the trained ease of Christen’s voice from the other times she’s heard it. The flatness is a desperate effort to be efficient and push through a hard conversation when breaking down would be inappropriate. Christen had sounded like this when she had spoken to the vet after being told her dog was sick. She’d sounded like this in the closing moments of their CBA meetings after it was made clear that sexism was still rampant among their employers. 

Tobin was the one who had been by Christen’s side in the aftermath of these events. She had been the only one allowed to see the facade crumble into an outpouring of emotion once they’d found privacy. Now Tobin is the one that Christen is shielding herself from. 

Tobin keeps her eyes trained on Christen’s face, even though the other woman is still staring straight ahead. 

“I would always stay for you, Christen.” Tobin’s voice drops to something barely more than a whisper. “I’ll stay as long as I’m wanted.”

The weight of those words is tied to the floor of Tobin’s stomach, and her gut lurches up when they fall from her lips. They’re dangerous because they stretch so much further than this moment. They apply to a lifetime. But that’s the kind of thing you can’t acknowledge. It’s too much. 

“Do you want me here, Chris?”

Christen’s head twitches instinctually away to hide her face from Tobin’s line of sight as her eyes squeeze shut and her chin trembles. 

Then, slowly, she nods. 

Tobin sags with the relief of not being sent away. 

Christen’s voice is fragile the next time she speaks, her control over whatever emotion she’s holding back reaching its limit. “It’s not fair for me to want you here. It’s not fair to you if I ask you to stay.”

“You haven’t asked me to stay. You just haven’t told me to leave. That makes this my choice, and as long as it’s up to me I’m not going to leave you alone out here.”

“Thank you,” Christen breathes. She hasn’t opened her eyes, but they aren’t screwed as tightly shut as before. 

“I’m sorry for um…” Tobin pictures what Christen must have seen when she walked into the bathroom. A stranger with her hand wrist-deep in Tobin’s pants. Tobin with her own hands splayed wide across the bartender's body, pulling her closer. If seeing Christen flirting in the bar had sent Tobin into a tailspin she can only imagine how Christen feels after walking in on that. “Sorry for the bathroom.”

The last of the composure in Christen’s face collapses. The movement causes some light from the street to catch a streak of wetness on her cheek. “Don’t be sorry, Tobin. You shouldn’t be sorry. There shouldn’t be anything keeping you from sleeping with people if that’s what you want to do.”

“Yeah, well I shouldn’t have done it anywhere that you might see me.” Christen dips her head when tears start flowing more heavily from her eyes. “It makes sense that you’re upset, you don’t need to try and hide it.”

She picks her head back up and finally turns toward Tobin. “I really don’t want you to feel guilty. Though the location might not have been the best choice.” Tobin nods acknowledgment. A cool gust of wind swirls from the street into the alley and Christen crosses her arms tightly across her chest. Tobin takes a step closer to Christen, and when she doesn’t meet any opposition she moves to stand against the wall next to her, placing her body between Christen and the source of the cold air.

The tension in Christen’s shoulders eases. “This is probably a good sign,” she continues. That one of us is ready to move on.”

“One of us?” Tobin questions.

Christen gives her a small smile that looks out of place squeezed between the tear stains on her cheeks. “Yeah, Tobs. It doesn’t look like it,” she jokes, “but I’m happy for you. I’m glad we’re not both stuck being too caught up in each other to be interested in other people. It was just hard to see.”

The words ricochet around Tobin’s head, trying to catch on something that will help them make sense. “You seem to have moved on better than I have. I wasn’t planning on doing anything with that bartender until I saw you with your new woman.”

Christen laughs. “Kendall?”

“I don’t know,” Tobin says, thrown off by Christen’s reaction. “Whoever you were feeling up over in the corner.” Distaste sneaks it’s way into her voice.

“She’s a friend of mine from the Stanford team. She lives out here now.”

Tobin eyes her skeptically. “Kelley didn’t know her.”

“Kendall was a freshman when I was a senior— Kelley had already graduated.”

“Awfully touchy for a college friend,” Tobin grumbles. 

Christen shoots Tobin a look. “You should know I’m comfortable touching my friends. She was saying that she’s jealous I get to stay fit playing professionally and I told her that she seemed to be doing pretty well herself. That girl’s still got some abs on her.”

“So you’re not dating?” Tobin’s gravity halves. 

“No, we’re not dating.” Christen pauses. “I haven’t even thought about it yet to be honest. Can’t imagine dating someone…” She trails off, but Tobin shares the feeling and her mind completes the sentence. ‘Someone else. Someone who’s not you.’

“But I’m glad you can,” Christen adds quickly, trying to cover the emotion in her voice again. 

Tobin sighs and tips her head back against the bricks. “That’s the first time I’ve done anything like that. I didn’t even really want to. Not until I saw you and Kendall and saw her touching you, and I was so… well. I was just going to try and calm down and compose myself a little bit in the bathroom but I was so worked up and then that girl walked in and—”

“Tobin.”

Tobin lets her mouth fall closed for a beat. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

She takes a deep breath. “I guess I just wanted to let you know that I’m nowhere close to moving on. I don’t know if that makes things better or worse.”

Christen is silent for a moment. “We’ll have to move past each other eventually,” she says, but Tobin thinks she can hear something like relief in Christen’s voice. Can feel something in the shape of Christen standing beside her that reminds Tobin of the lightness she felt when she learned that Kendall was just a friend. “That was part of the problem— that we were so dependent on each other. Wanting to sleep with other people is a healthy development.”

“I don’t want to sleep with other people. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being dependent on the people you love,” Tobin says gently. It’s the same response Tobin had given months ago when Christen first told her that they needed space from each other. 

“We were barely our own people anymore, Tobin. We weren’t functioning as individuals with independent lives.”

“We were happy.”

“Yes. I need to be able to be happy on my own.”

Christen shifts her weight closer to Tobin, so their shoulders press together and the heat of their bodies has a path to be shared. 

“Kind of hypocritical,” Christen ponders. “I say I should be more independent then I spill grief on you and expect you to clean it up.”

“Not everything is meant to be faced alone.”

“You should be the last person I want to see right now. How did you still make me feel better?”

Then all of a sudden Christen is laughing. First a suppressed giggle and then fuller and louder as she leans toward Tobin and lets her forehead fall against her ex-girlfriend's shoulder. “We’re a mess,” she says into the fabric of Tobin’s sleeve. 

Tobin can’t say why, but she laughs, too, up at the sky. And if her feelings feed the stars she thinks this laugh will reach them first. It’s buoyant enough to overtake her sadness before it even leaves the atmosphere. 

Christen turns her face away from Tobin’s arm but leaves her head resting on her shoulder. Tobin wraps an arm around her waist and tells herself it’s to fend off the cold.

She looks up at the sky through the gap in the buildings. More stars have appeared between the ones that she’d noticed before. Maybe her eyes have adjusted to the low light. Or maybe there are that many other people out there, feeling something as confusing as this. Being so filled up by it that it spills out into the heavens. 

Tobin feels Christen’s head turn toward her and tilts her chin back down so they’re facing each other. She feels the brush of Christen’s next exhale. Tobin’s eyes trace a meandering path over the plane of her forehead, the soft swell of her cheek, the curve of her lips, before meeting Christen’s gaze.

It’s strange to see something so familiar and have it feel so novel. Tobin had lost herself in the depth of Christen’s eyes like this a million times while they were dating but wishes it had been a million more.

There’s a controlled stillness to the way Christen is holding herself. Tobin doesn’t even want to breathe too hard for fear of breaking this reverie.

It’s an incredible temptation to be so close.

Every instinct and piece of muscle memory in Tobin screams to close the last few inches and press their lips together. 

“We should go back inside,” she whispers with a breath that’s mingled with Christen’s own. 

It's another several seconds before either of them shifts away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter somehow simultaneously feels rushed and like it's paced too slowly to me... but it's been months since the last update so...
> 
> In other news, I've reached a point where I think I have a general idea of what else is going to happen and how long we have before this story wraps up. Let me know if there's anything specific you would like to see before we get there :)

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and critiques are always welcome! Come say hi on tumblr at [tobs-heath17](https://tobs-heath17.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
